Guilt
by Republic of Yolossia
Summary: Luca hates himself, and no matter what he does he cannot change that, or his feelings, for that matter. LuxMold


Warnings- sexual content; masturbation; underage [depending on where you live]; age difference; alcohol; drug use; suicide mentions; self-loathing; guilt; self-destructive thoughts/behaviours; look, it's a dark fic, okay?

Was playing around at the thought of writing the full potential of fucked up, twisted LuxMold involving Lux's guilt over his feelings for a far younger Mol in a human au where age difference actually means something. This isn't meant to be healthy- in terms of behaviour or relationship-; I just wanted to explore a character dealing with such dark thoughts and desires extremely unhealthily. Look, the warnings are all up there so don't say I didn't warn you.

...

Luca- Luxembourg

Andrei- Moldova

...

The alcohol wasn't strong enough, not anymore.

And yet Luca always started with it, convincing himself that it was all he would need to forget him. Just a bottle. Or a few. To think about something other than how much of a monster he was, and how he should be locked up for good. Even when he moved on from the wines and beers to the vodka the source of his pain gives him as a gift, in exchange for wine or money or even out of the kindness of his own heart- Luca had been looking increasingly rough lately, and with good reason- it still wasn't enough to numb the sting in his chest and feel normal for five minutes. Then again, how could anyone feel normal curled up in the shattered remains of their home, on their bedroom floor, surrounded by empty bottles?

A monster's lair, as it were.

From the outside, Luca's flat appeared to be like any other luxury apartment overlooking the Thames owned by the many businessmen and women who made London their partial home or invested in such overpriced property, with its balcony over the river, hanging baskets, and little table and chair set for classy wine drinking and giving the impression that he had his life together. Everything that could be seen from the opposite banks was tidy and clean, and the rest? He'd not bothered with a maid for a long time now, not being able to bear the thought of someone coming round and asking questions. About the bottles and broken glass, the white powder, the stained bed sheets.

Luca was a mess and the state of his home only made up a fraction of his guilt.

He never bothered to turn on the lights anymore. The faint twinkles spilling in from the windows would have to do until he passed out. Not to mention, he'd smashed every tabletop lamp he owned by now, along with anything else light enough to pick up. Still, at least he was saving on electricity, not that it made much difference to the millions of pounds a month it took to keep him living here, and the extra few thousands it took to deal with just how much of a sick bastard he was.

Everything about him was wrong, and had been for months since that beauty had walked into his life with a laugh and the tinkling of wine glasses.

Another swig, but the burning in his throat did little to distract him from the thoughts of Andrei Radacanu. His mischievous grin. How he could drink most men under the table. The way his fingers flew, guiding his knitting needles as he sat in the corner of the bar. He was wonderful, beautiful. Perfect.

Sixteen.

And Luca was twisted for thinking about him that way.

It wasn't against the law, not here nor in either of their countries, but Luca was in his thirties and as far as he was concerned, it was still wrong. It was though. Normal adults just didn't think about teens this way.

He was wrong for wanting to run his fingers through Andrei's thick, deep hair, the colour of Rioja. He was unnatural for wanting to kiss those rosé lips, to feel those little fangs on his own mouth, possibly drawing blood, his own teeth brushing against Andrei's neck sensually. He was absolutely abhorrent for wanting to pin the boy down and-

Luca resisted the urge to smash the bottle against the wall. It was still half-full, after all, and had been a gift.

He took a deep swig, letting the liquid swirl in his mouth, spilling over his tongue in a lukewarm waterfall as he wondered if this is what Andrei's mouth would taste like. These depraved thoughts infested his mind day in, day out, like a real sickness, and he knew if he had any sense of morals left, he would cut off all ties with the kid and avoid anywhere he might be. But he couldn't. Andrei was an addiction at this point. He needed to see him, nearly every day when he stumbled into the rickety little pub on his way home from work, and Andrei would be there, in the corner. Maybe with his knitting or a piece of homework. Sometimes with his brother. Usually alone.

And Luca would just sidle up next to him, all smiles and sweet words, asking how his day had been. He genuinely wanted to know. He did listen. Andrei never believed him though, because most of the previous day's events would be blown out of Luca's mind by his increasingly terrible habits. But he still talked, about his friends and the course he would be taking- textiles- and how he hoped to be a fashion designer when this was all done, slowly working his way up in London's fashion industry.

Luca could make that dream happen, for a small fee.

He squirmed at the thought, awash with guilt as he keeled over and curled into a ball, bellowing out a sob. The wooden floorboards dug into his arms and sides, but he didn't care. His overcoat that he'd not bothered taking off was making him sweat, but he didn't care. The rug at the foot of his bed stank of weeks-old vomit, but he didn't care. He just focused on Andrei as his chest heaved and his heart fluttered, fast and panicked like it was trying to tear apart his body to get out.

He wondered what his siblings would say if they knew. He could hear them now. Feel them shaking his bony shoulder. They'd be worried for him, if they were in the country to see what a mess he'd become, to see what he was doing to his body and health and mental state, until they found out why.

They would hate him.

He hated himself.

They would tell him he was no longer their brother. That he was evil, twisted, a sicko who preyed on teenage boys.

But Luca would never hurt Andrei like that.

He'd keep his desires to himself, confined in this dark room, and never tell him. Never tell anyone. Of course, it was mostly because he didn't want Andrei to hate him and leave him. He needed to see Andrei, be close to him, maybe brush against his hand if he could get away with it. How Andrei's ripe lips and flat stomach would feel would simply be left to his imagination.

And boy did his imagination love to play with his sanity.

Draining the last drop from his drink, he threw the bottle against the wall in frustration, and the neck came clean off. Oh how he'd love to do that to his own one at times. And other times he just wanted to throw himself off his balcony, pretend it was his own beloved city instead, that he was far away from here and Andrei and everything. Everything had gone wrong once he came to this country.

He thought about Andrei's skinny chest, his smooth legs. He thought about kissing his neck, holding him down. He would tell Andrei how much he loved him over and over, let him know his feelings were real and just how much the boy drove Luca wild. He would buy him whatever he wanted, Andrei would just have to ask.

It would be a perfect relationship, had Andrei been older, or- preferably- Luca younger. Actually, never mind. Puberty had tossed Luca about like a chew toy.

Andrei cared about him, Luca knew. He always asked about his day- busy, quite dull- and his ailing health- he'd barely eaten these past few months but the kid didn't need to know- actually looking like he was memorising it all. The boy insisted that he ate more, that pounds and pounds were just falling off him, and he looked dangerously like he was about to disappear. He was one to talk! Andrei never looked well fed, and Luca suspected he and his brother couldn't afford a lot. But how could he slip them some money without Andrei thinking it was charity though?

Maybe they could go out together sometime for something to eat?

Or maybe Luca could just go and hang himself?

He pulled himself up, finally throwing off his coat and loosening his tie; after he'd gotten in, he'd just sat on the floor drinking to mask his guilt. Now it was the early hours of the morning, nothing had worked so far, and it was time to satisfy his other addiction.

It would be so easy to lure Andrei into bed, if he was twisted enough to do so. It could be delusion, but he was sure the kid also had feelings for him, from the smiles and blushes thrown in his direction. Lucky him. For Andrei, it was an innocent crush on the handsome older man he talked to. Maybe Luca had wormed his way into more pleasant fantasies for him to enjoy in the dark of night, safe in the knowledge that it was fantasy and nothing would happen.

Luca, meanwhile, tortured himself with the thought that nothing could- ever- happen.

It would be so easy, to ply him with drink and words of eternal love, make Andrei believe he was cared for and adored and the most important man in the world. And if worst came to worst, he could slip him a gold watch and chain and guilt him into it.

He could never do it. He was not evil enough to resort to that.

So Luca elected to destroy another piece of his body, and with it more of his mind. Maybe one day he'd be too far gone to remember his own name, let alone his perverse desire for a young boy.

He groped in his bedside drawers for the packet, a little brown bag, and poured an ever so tiny pile next to the remains of his alarm clock. Then a bit more. The doses had been getting consistently bigger these past few months as he got used to each high, the depression following also becoming worse as time went on.

Luca stretched himself out on the bed, pushing his crumpled bedsheets out of the way and kicking off his smart trousers. Thinking about Andrei for so long was having yet another little effect that wouldn't go away, and he rubbed the bulge in his boxers briefly- eliciting a groan- before pulling a credit card out of his trousers, now on the floor in a heap.

The high was the best time to think about him, when the guilt and remorse had been washed away by pure euphoria, and he could practically feel Andrei kneeling over him, smiling, gasping, only for him.

He set about chopping the powder into fine lines, rolling up the note he kept there for this specific purpose to take a long snort. His nose stung as his mind buzzed and everything around him felt more real, from the mattress underneath him to the summer air, now almost unbearable. His worries crumbled away as the world around him became brighter, clearer, slower.

Bugs crawled under his skin as his heart pummelled his chest, desperate to break free. He closed his heavy eyes for a moment, sweating as he began to touch himself once more. Things felt alright now, in a way. He almost felt normal.

He hoped no one on the opposite bank could see him, though he was almost certain he was safe. There was that niggling feeling though. Someone would've phoned the police already if they could see the state he was in. Unless they were too busy filming him. Or just laughing at his pain.

He couldn't blame them.

Maybe he wasn't a complete piece of scum. Just maybe.

Andrei knelt over him, smiling mischievously, but when Luca reached up to stroke his face, he was gone again. With a giggle, he peeked through the doorway. And then he was gone.

"Stop teasing," his voice was low, guttural, but amused. When Andrei appeared beside him on the bed, playing with his hair, he let out a laugh.

Andrei was lovely. When Luca could focus enough to keep him in one place, he ran a hand through his hair, unable to keep the grin from his face. He was on top of the world. He was safe. He was normal for just a moment.

He could act out his fantasies to himself now, tingling with euphoria for just a short while as he thought of Andrei on top of him. Calling his name. Bright red at what they were doing, what no one else had had the privilege of seeing except Luca. Andrei was his and his alone to hold and cherish and corrupt.

He came with the come down, the high shorter each time, and the low all the more unbearable. The euphoria came with a horrid price, and now he felt worse than ever before.

Luca was a monster and there was no point denying it. His skin crawled at the thought of everything he deserved, from mutilation to hanging, ghosts of Andrei's thighs still on his fingertips, and it made him sick. He was sick. He wanted to die.

The snarling faces of everyone he loved laughed down at him as the image of Andrei disappeared, pulling his hands away and screaming in horror. He begged Luca to stay away from him, to not hurt him before disappearing into a crowd of pointing hands and out of his life. A sea of hatred washed over Luca as voices in his head mocked and taunted, told him to die, to never touch Andrei again.

He'd never…

Andrei would hate him. Luca couldn't live in a world where that was possible, where the one he loved would turn away in scorn over the monster looming over him.

Luca hadn't even noticed himself crawling out of bed, throwing on a long dressing gown- too thin to keep out the cold- before making his way to the window, and the balcony over the river. He didn't notice the wind, or anything until he was climbing the railing, murky brown water thundering and smacking against the bank down below.

Luca wobbled dangerously as he sat over the edge, feet dangling over a drop that would be sure to kill him, a position that would terrify him, had his sight and mind not been clouded with the sneering voices of his friends and siblings, of Andrei lying lifeless in the water, blank eyes calling to him.

He wasn't even aware of when he let go.


End file.
